Grave Memories
by Madame Crimson
Summary: "Our play is long over, Madame. The curtain closed long ago, and our characters have been put to rest. Perhaps we will see each other again, in the afterlife. Goodbye, Angie." The shinigami walked away from the grave as the wind howled, almost an echo of Grell's own lament, taunting her as she walked away from her past.


A/N: Hello, everyone! I wrote this dabble as I was taking a break from my other fanfic, 'A Raven and Rose'. It is quite short, but I hope you all enjoy it!

Kuroshitsuji and all its characters belong to Yana Toboso.

* * *

><p>Her grave was so utterly dull, so gray, that it was depressing. She would have hated it if she was alive to see it. It was a small site, with a drab headstone. It was terribly small, and not as near lavish enough for Angelina to rest, not enough red. They should have at least given her red roses by her grave stone. It had been such a long time since she had been alive, the shinigami couldn't remember the shade of her lipstick or nail polish like she used to, but Grell did remember the Madame's laugh, which was rarely heard by the shinigami's ears, but still present once in a while, when Grell did something quite stupid and clumsy. They both knew it was an act, and Grell was always trying to exaggerate the element of awkwardness in the character Angelina had thought of for Grell to act. The reaper had thought of it as a challenge, aiding this woman in killing three or four petty humans that were going to end up on the Death list anyway. In the sort span in Grell's life it had occurred, it had made such an impact on the way she lived and worked. The reaper recalled the wine Angelina drank when they killed, and the size corsets she wore. The woman liked red Hibiscus flowers, which grew in the garden at the manor. Grell had a bouquet of them, in her shaking hands. She couldn't have known why tremors shook through her body as she approached the grave site, but Grell couldn't control the way her body grew cold as ice and trembled violently. It wasn't with fear. She wasn't afraid of a dead woman. But what was it?<p>

The last week, Grell couldn't focus on a thing other than the crimson Madame, which was odd, because she hadn't even thought of the woman for at least a decade. She kneeled on the ground next to the grave and gripped the flowers until her knuckles turned white as she read the gravestone.

_Angelina Dalles, beloved wife and daughter. _

That was all they cared to write. It was so short and thoughtless, and didn't mention any good things about the woman. Whoever made this stone for her hadn't cared enough to mention how Angelina was the life of every party, or how passionately she worked when she tore the wenches from the inside out, painting herself and her shinigami partner in pretty red. Grell felt tears roll down her face. What had caused the tears, she wondered? Remorse for taking away the red Madame's life?

She had no regret in that aspect. Otherwise, the little brat Ciel would have dragged the woman away to prison to rot behind bars. No matter the reason, her shoulders began to shake and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her mascara must have run, and she must have looked a mess. When others in the cemetery walked by, they must have been confused. Who was this woman who was mourning for Jack the Ripper, forty years after her death? Of course, nobody knew a thing about the person behind the scenes in the case. Angelina's accomplice was never mentioned. They couldn't have known that the mourner was a one hundred and ninety year old shinigami, either. The last time the shinigami cried like this was when the woman was still alive, a drunken night after they had killed their second victim. She was angry, and it wasn't even at Angelina, and perhaps not even for the recent events, either. All the emotions she bottled up and hid behind a flamboyant personality had overflowed and spewed, like ash and lava from a volcano. Every time she wanted to cry when William called her 'Mister Grell', every time a person had pushed her to the side like she didn't matter, every damned time someone had refused to love her had all been released, and now it was happening again. Grell knew she had to stop before it just got worse again...

After Grell somewhat composed herself, she arranged the bouquet of flowers next to the grave stone and wiped her face with her sleeve, the coat that Angelina had worn. The shinigami had kept it and worn it all these years, and it adopted the earthy scent of jasmine incense that Grell burned almost every moment in her flat. It didn't fit her quite right across her broad shoulders, and her chest didn't fill it out like it was supposed to, but regardless, she wore it to remind herself of her lover, Angelina. The woman seemed like a dream now, a faint memory. Almost too good to be true, because the woman had loved the shinigami, even if for her own vain motives. The grim reaper stood and looked down at the grave, her hair whipping around in the wind, the gloomy sky forsaking the crimson shinigami and her mistress. Grell removed the coat from her own body and hung it on the grave. It blew in the wind, but stayed in its place.

"Our play is long over, Madame. The curtain closed long ago, and our characters have been put to rest. Perhaps we will see each other again, in the afterlife. Goodbye, Angie."

The shinigami walked away from the grave as the wind howled, almost an echo of Grell's own lament, taunting her as she walked away from her past.

* * *

><p>AN: I truly hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just needed to capture a breakdown that I had in my mind. It's bittersweet to think that the shinigami still thought of Madame Red even after so long, and even throughout the rest of the anime and ongoing manga, she ignored the mourning for her lover. It was good to write, and I would like to hear your comments, so please, please review! Reviewing is much more important to me than all of you favoriting the story, as it does critique my writing.

Thank you so much for reading! Check out my other fanfic, 'A Raven and Rose'. c:


End file.
